


Veritas

by spuffyduds



Category: due South
Genre: 100-1000 Words, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-08
Updated: 2010-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-05 23:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spuffyduds/pseuds/spuffyduds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Set during "Call of the Wild."</p>
    </blockquote>





	Veritas

**Author's Note:**

> Set during "Call of the Wild."

"You fucking _punched_ him?"

"Yeah, well, you fucking _shot_ him."

Ray looks at Kowalski, who's bristling up, ready to do something stupid and showy again, maybe to sweep all the _bottles_ off the table this time and get them kicked out of the bar. And this is Ray's favorite bar, he _missed_ this bar.

"Good point," he says, pleasantly. And Kowalski stands down--Ray is pretty sure his _hair_ relaxes—slouches in the seat, picks up his beer again.

*********************************************************************

Ray still can't quite believe he ended up buying this guy dinner and booze. But after the whole tantrum with the desk and the folders they got started talking, and it was actually pretty cool to have someone to spin Benny stories with who _got_ it, who didn't look at you like "Riiiiiiiiight. And _then_ did the Easter Bunny take you off to Super Happy Fun Land?"

Kowalski believed him, Kowalski got it, Kowalski said, "Yeah, why _doesn't_ he just wear a bulletproof vest every day?" And "Yeah, Thatcher SO wants in those ugly pants!" and "Yeah, _what_ is with the licking stuff?" and just _yeah_. And then Ray got to _looking_ at Kowalski, really looking, as much as he could considering the guy never stopped _moving_, and Jesus did he actually _have_ any body fat? Is it possible to have _negative_ body fat? And somewhere in Ray's head his mama folded her arms and looked stern and said "FEED that boy."

So to Ray's own surprise he found himself taking Kowalski to the best place in Chicago. He hadn't been there since Louis died. And this was way different, Frankie was long in jail and Ray was throwing bills around from his Bookman gig, and the way the maitre'd was sucking up Ray probably could have taken up the main room for his own private party, gotten everybody else stuck in a side room. But he didn't, just ate his excellent dinner slowly and lingeringly and appreciatively, watched Kowalski scarf his down like it was a pastrami sandwich. (Although he did slow down long enough to say, "Hey, this is pretty good." So, not a complete moron.)

Then they went to O'Malley's, and Ray didn't even ask, just ordered Harps for the two of them because he figured if he let Kowalski order they'd have to send the barman to the nearest convenience store for some Mad Dog 20/20. And Kowalski started catching him up on his own personal Benny weirdnesses, on the voodoo and the faith healing and the asylum in a little tiny chunk of Canada.

"We are in the same boat, my friend," Ray said, and wondered how many beers he'd had to be calling him that.

"It's a weird fuckin' boat," Kowalski said, and started telling him about the Henry Allen, which is when the whole punching and shooting thing came up.

********************************************************

But that blows over, and Kowalski keeps talking, and alarming the people at other tables by making pretty convincing gunshot noises when they come up in his stories. He gets into long descriptions of gun battles, moving salt and pepper shakers and napkin holder and beer glasses around on the table, to illustrate the positions of shooters and cover and him and Benny, except he calls him Fraser. And a large part of Ray wants to hang onto the impression that he's obnoxious and brainless, but the stories are funny, and the strategies he's acting out with salt shakers make sense. And Kowalski made sure he got seated facing the door, and Ray keeps noticing that his gaze flicks up every time someone comes in the bar, that he's keeping a sideways eye on all the patrons already here. Like, even now, even half-drunk and loose and funny, he's expecting every second to have to yell, "GUN!"

Ray starts to feel a little better about having left Benny with him.

Then Kowalski stills, stops clattering salt shakers, looks Ray in the eye. "You know what really kills me, though, is that _tongue_ thing he always does. You know? The liplicking thing? That's, fuck, that's—-do you think he's doing it on _purpose_?"

Ray blinks, counts up the empties on Kowalski's side of the table, realizes the guy is probably way more wasted than he'd thought. And it looks like at the same second Kowalski really _hears_ what he just said, gets this startled miserable look, closes his eyes.

For one mean instant Ray wants to leave him twisting in the wind. But he's got enough Bookman stuff to bring to confession for the next thousand years anyway, no need to throw in extra pissiness on top of it.

"I don't know about the 'on purpose,' Kowalski," he says. "Never could figure that out. But it's a _bitch_, isn't it?"

Kowalski opens his eyes, smiles a little, nods. And Ray orders them another round.

 

\--END--


End file.
